


In a Land of Myth & a Time of Destiny

by HufflePuff_Dreamer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Attempt at Humor, BAMF Hermione Granger, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Friendship/Love, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Gwen Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione Granger-centric, Historical Fantasy, Magic, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflePuff_Dreamer/pseuds/HufflePuff_Dreamer
Summary: Merlin had barely stepped into the forest when he felt it - magic both light and dark and so intensely heavy that he won't be surprised if he could touch it just by reaching out his hand.He hurried his horse to the source of the screams and light, but nothing could have prepared him to what he saw.A girl dressed like royalty was standing before a disgruntled Arthur, her arm outstretched and preventing the prince from taking any step farther as they stared down the army of mummified beasts advancing towards them.His heart all but leaped out of his chest at the sight of the phoenix erupting from her wooden stick."ARTHUR!" he yelled.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hermione Granger/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 125





	1. Past Meets Future

You'd never know what day your life would change. It could be today or tomorrow. It could be a day when the sun reigns in the sky or a day when stormy clouds rule. It could be a day you're happy or a day you're down. No one could tell. But when it happens, you'll know it, because suddenly everything is different and nothing will ever be the same again.

The day it happened, Merlin still wasn't convinced that Arthur wasn't lying when he told him he acknowledges that he has magic and that it doesn't change the fact that he's still an idiot.

The warlock wanted to believe him. He really does. But when one had been living in the shadows of lies, deceit and fear for as long as he had, it couldn't be harder to step into the light and accept that it was real.

Merlin hated that he couldn't be fully at ease with Arthur and the knights. He hated seeing the hurt in the prince's eyes every time he would wince when the royal would draw a sword or prepare to give an order. Merlin also noticed that the knights had been taking turns, keeping him company on his chores and going out of their way to ask him questions to learn more about his magic.

Merlin wasn't oblivious to their intentions. He knew that his friends were doing it to show him that it's alright to be himself around them. But as much as he appreciates their effort, try as he might, he still just couldn't erase the nagging fear at the back of his mind that Arthur would change his mind and decide that burning at the stake is where he belongs and that the knights would agree with him.

The worst part was that even if they do, Merlin would only understand their choice. They had been breaking the law by lying to Uther just to save his head. While Gwaine had no qualms deceiving the king, he knew the rest of the knights had their apprehensions. And Arthur, well it was him that Merlin feels most sorry to. What kind of friend does it make him if Arthur had to lie to his own father to protect him?

There's no question that Merlin couldn't have picked better friends. But what does that make him? For someone who has his secret out in the open, Merlin still doesn't feel free. Sometimes, he even finds himself believing that maybe he will never be.

It might just be so that for all the trials and tribulations magic had brought into his life, in the end, it will still be the one constant he can rely on.

Merlin barely managed to catch his breath on his way to Gaius' chambers when Gwen came running to him.

"Gwen?" he asks, instantly worried for the first friend he made in Camelot. "What's going on?"

"It's Arthur, Merlin!" Gwen answered. "Uther sent him and the knights to search what's causing the villagers' fright in the Forest of Merendra. Arthur sent me to inform you to take the shortcut and bring food and extra towels."

Merlin frowned. "When was this?"

"Just right after you left. They wanted to wait for you but Uther was insistent, and they couldn't tarry, else, Uther would be suspicious."

"I know that," said Merlin, knowing she was trying to assure him that they didn't leave him by choice. "I'll catch up with them. It should be no problem."

"Good," Gwen smiled before taking off the satchel strapped on her shoulder and handing it to him. "I prepared everything you might need. Now all you have to do is get a horse and leave." Then, taking the basket from him, she added, "As for the herbs, let me deliver them to Gaius. I'm sure he won't mind."

Merlin beamed, amused at her preparedness. "Thanks Gwen. I owe you," he expressed, clutching the supplies to his chest and running past her and into the stables. "And please tell Gaius I've gone after the prat!"

**:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:  
**

Arthur couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the body lying still in the middle of the forest. He took a quick scan around the area just to see if they were being watched. It was a pity he got separated from the knights.

His own experiences with magical creatures had taught him to be wary, but he couldn't for the life of him, abandon the knight's code and turn away from a potential damsel in distress. And somehow, even if he wasn't willing to believe it at first, knowing that his idiot of a best friend has magic and could find him wherever he was, was a reassurance of its own kind. Not that he'll ever admit it to Merlin. The idiot would never let him hear the end of it if he does.

But just in case, he unsheathed Excalibur and prepared for an attack.

Carefully, he turned her so he could see her face.

"A princess?" he gasps, eyes instantly drawn on the silver tiara on her head. He had never seen anything like the pale blue dress she was wearing.

Arthur quickly reached a finger under her nose to see if she's still breathing. He couldn't help but worry what her presence here would mean if his assumptions were right.

To his relief, he had barely lifted her when she began to stir. He watched as chocolate brown eyes slowly blinked into awareness.

Gently, he helped her to sit up, making sure to support her back to keep her steady. The feel of his gloved hand on her back must have done the trick and she shrieked, jumping in fright of him. He would have laughed if she didn't look so scared.

"Oh, dear Merlin!" she exclaimed.

Arthur frowned. "You know my manservant?"

"Ahm," she started to say, and he easily caught onto her confusion.

"Forgive me, please," Arthur quickly apologized, making sure to step away to assure her that he meant her no harm. "My name is Arthur. I mean no threat to you, my lady, but I found you unconscious in the middle of Forest of Merendra. Tell me, where are you from? Do you remember how you got here?"

"Forest of-" she trailed, and he waited patiently as she finally seemed to absorb her surroundings. Her eyes widened in shock and she gasped, raising a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Hermione, what have you done now?"

"Hermione?" Arthur's face brightened. "Is that what they call you? What kingdom are you from?"

"I-…" she bit her lip in thought. "I'm sorry. Who did you say you are again?"

"Arthur. Arthur Pendragon, at your service," he reintroduced, waiting for recognition to dawn on her.

He didn't expect amused laughter to be her reaction. "Seriously, where are we? Is this some kind of a theme party? Are you in cosplay? Is that it? Well, I certainly can't remember drinking enough for this," she rambled. "Wait, I must be dreaming! That's it, isn't it? I'm dreaming, or I must be under a spell…A pensieve? But I don't remember…"

The prince listened to her patiently, mentally taking note of the words in her rant that he finds unfamiliar. Eventually, she stopped on her own and turned to him.

"Let's try that again, shall we?" she suggested. "Where are we?"

Arthur sighed but had no choice but to acquiesce. She still hasn't confirmed who she is and what she's doing dressed so thinly in this cold, or why she doesn't seem too worried at the thought that she might be under a spell. "We're in the Forest of Merendra in the Kingdom of Essetir. We're miles away from Camelot."

At this, her eyes widened and she pulled away from him. "Camelot?" Then, sounding fearful now, she asked. "And you're telling me you're King Arthur? As in THE King Arthur? Are you messing with me?"

"Well, no, it is my father, Uther, that is king. I'm only a prince. But I don't understand why you find this so hard to believe. Surely, you've heard of Camelot?"

She didn't get to answer though as the roars of the linen wrapped beasts finally caught up to him. Quickly, he helped her get to her feet and readied to defend.

"Well if you're Arthur, then what are they?" she asks, mystified. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd hit her head real hard that she still thinks she's dreaming.

But the pondering would have to wait as the creatures began to surround them.

'Anytime now would be great, Merlin.' He thought before he answered her.

"They're soulless animals' corpses being controlled by a sorceress."

"So they're dead? Like mummies?"

"You need to get behind me," he instructed, eyes at the beasts, only to startle when she stepped right beside him instead.

"How do we fight them?"

Arthur's first instinct was to tell her off for foolish bravery but one look at the advancing beasts told him there was no time for that. She at least needs to know what they're up against. "Fire, we need to burn them. But normal fire isn't enough. We need to-"

"It isn't working!" she was screaming before he could even register that she was holding a stick and one of the walking dead beasts was suddenly set ablaze.

"How did you?" he asked, before realization dawned on him and he turned to her in disbelief. "You're a sorceress!" he accused just as a lion jumped at him and he dodged, seeing her do the same in the corner of his eyes.

"What?" The girl, Hermione, scoffed, looking very much offended. "Flipendo!" she screamed before a light shot out of her stick and hit a tiger in the chest. "No, I'm a witch! Now, quickly tell me how to defeat them! Normal fire isn't working."

Arthur fought a headache from coming. Fate must be punishing him for treating his manservant so cruelly. As if dealing with one Merlin isn't enough…

"They're creatures of magic. The fire must be enchanted to destroy them."

"Of course," she breathed, eyes widening as though she'd just made a wonderful realization. Arthur barely moved his foot before he heard her say, "Stay back and don't move," and then, "FIENDFYRE!"

**:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:  
**

Merlin had barely stepped into the forest when he felt it - magic both light and dark and so intensely heavy that he won't be surprised if he could touch it just by reaching out his hand.

He hurried his horse to the source of the screams and light, but nothing could have prepared him to what he saw.

A girl dressed like royalty was standing before a disgruntled Arthur, her arm outstretched and preventing the prince from taking any step farther as they stared down the army of mummified beasts advancing towards them.

His heart all but leaped out of his chest at the sight of the phoenix erupting from her wooden stick.

"ARTHUR!" he yelled.

**:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:  
**

The frightened voice sounded very much like his manservant, but the prince couldn't keep his eyes away if he tried, gaping as the fire bird flew to devour the whole beastial army, leaving nothing but ashes on its wake.

He only breathed, alert and mortified when the phoenix started to turn on him. Before he knew it, Merlin had thrown his own weight to push them both out of harm's way and onto the ground, a move they soon found unnecessary when the fire bird released an ear piercing screech before drawing back and disappearing into thin air, leaving their eyes to settle on the lone girl standing in the middle of the devastation.

Legs apart, back straight, eyes ablaze and unrelenting, and with her hair crackling of magic - she looks like the perfect embodiment of an avenging female angel if they'd ever seen one.

No one said a word until she broke the silence.

"Is that enough?" she asked, eying them expectantly. "Are we safe now?"

"Huh," was the prince's unintelligible response, the only one he could manage after seeing what he saw. But he saw her brow lift higher and knew she was awaiting his answer.

"Yes," Arthur finally agreed, "I suppose that will do it." Then turning to the astounded warlock lying on his back beside him, he says, "Merlin, I think she just beat you in the most glamorous display of magic."

"You're-" she started to say, but the use of magic must have drained her and she began to sway.

Arthur hurried to help but Merlin signalled he let him instead, still feeling the lingering trace of unfamiliar magic in the air. It felt like his own and yet so different.

"SIRE!"

"Merlin!"

The voices came from the knights who arrived just in time to see Merlin carry the now unconscious girl in his arms.

"Who is she?" he found himself asking.

"I don't know," Arthur said, sounding as puzzled as he looked, staring at the sleeping damsel. "She seemed lost. She didn't even know who I am and yet, she protected me." Looking at his manservant, he asks, "Is she alright?"

Merlin nodded.

"Merlin, you alright mate?" Gwaine asked, seeing him look so perplexed.

This time, Merlin didn't nod, unsure of it himself.

He just witnessed magic unlike anything he'd ever seen.

But then she stirred on his arms, the tip of her stick accidentally touching his arm and Merlin's breath was caught at the feel of her magic humming and causing his skin to tingle with warmth.

"I think I need to speak with Kilgharrah."


	2. A Hope, a Riddle & Destiny in the Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur blinked to keep his focus as Uther continued his lengthy tirade. His father was saying a lot of words, but Arthur had long perfected faking the appearance of an enthusiastic audience.
> 
> "…be that as it may, the girl is obviously a princess and should be treated as such," Uther finished at long last, and Arthur hardened his jaw to keep up the appearance of a properly chastised son.
> 
> Uther took one look at him and decided to end their conversation. "Have Gaius see her, and ensure that she's given with the best Camelot has to offer."
> 
> "Of course father," Arthur obliged respectfully, itching to see if Merlin's learned anything from the great dragon. "If that is all, then I would be taking my leave to see that your orders are properly executed."
> 
> At his eagerness to leave, Uther's eyes softened by the slightest bit he was capable of.
> 
> Arthur was only a step out of the courtroom when his king father's words made him pause if only for the fact that he had never heard him speak so mystically.
> 
> "Who knows son," Uther wondered aloud, "Perhaps being saved by a damsel is the sign that you've finally found your perfect match?"

Their arrival at the palace caused quite the stir among the citizens of Camelot. Try as they attempted to be discreet, the sight of the heir to the throne carrying an unconscious damsel in his arms became the topic for the day and weeks to come. It certainly didn't hurt that the dame was far too lovely in the eyes, dressed in clothes extravagant and unseen even in the prestigious kingdom.

Onlookers ogled and gossiped without shame that it was no wonder the news spread faster than wildfire, reaching the throne room even before Arthur, Merlin and his knights could take a step to the palace.

Uther Pendragon for one did not know what to think upon hearing the news.

He'd sent his son and his men on a mission to check what troubles the citizens of a neighbouring kingdom. As such, he expected Arthur to bring the usual boring reports and perhaps some news on the knights' injuries. Yet it seemed his son had accomplished way beyond his expectations if the gossips were anything to go by.

'A princess?' Uther thought with unbridled excitement in full view of a room of his chattering court officials.

The king cannot remember the last time Arthur consented to being near one, much less agreed to be close enough to touch one.

For all Arthur's many talents and gifts, Uther and the court had come to the saddening conclusion that the luck of finding a suitable bride just eluded the young prince. They had thought that it was the one thing shying him away from perfection.

Of course, this didn't stop them from trying to change their perceived fate of Arthur being an old queenless king. Uther had done his part, sending invitations to monarchs of nearby and far off lands in hopes that one of their daughters would be the one to break the curse of Arthur's bachelorhood. Yet all his effort was led in vain, and Arthur just became more adept at making the most ridiculous of excuses to avoid courtship.

Uther's favorite thus far was the one about a princess being part troll and planning to kill Arthur in his sleep so she can take over Camelot. To this day, he still does not know how Arthur came up with the perfect proof to the improbable accusation, bringing a witchhunter of all things. Uther had a head ache at trying to ignore how the witchhunter reminded him so much of his son's clumsy manservant.

Regardless to say, Uther was nearing close to wit's end thinking of ways to change the prince's mind about marriage. He couldn't very well permit to his son being single forever. What of his great hopes of seeing grandchildren running around the palace and calling him grandfather? Surely, the good God above would not let him abandon them. Uther was adamant to believe so.

He also would deny it if asked, but he would give up an arm and a leg or two if this would be the day that would break the long and tedious cycle of his failed matchmakings for Arthur.

Pendragons deserve only the best after all. And Arthur, his heir, deserves nothing less than a girl of equal stature. It's no one's fault that the only candidate to fit this requirement just happens to be a princess.

"Your grace," alerted one of his court members, interrupting Uther's musings. The hope in his tone reflects Uther's own.

"It appears Prince Arthur had returned to us with a royal guest."

.

.

.

.

**_(Fast Forward)_ **

For all his high hopes of Arthur meeting his future bride, Uther had to admit that this was the one that did not even cross his mind.

When Arthur finished reciting their rehearsed speech, his father's brows had already reached far high above his hairline.

"You're telling me that a girl-," his king father paused dramatically from his throne, scrunching his nose like he was about to sneeze. Arthur would have found it funny watching his father's face contort in confusion then settle into bewilderment before the words finally came out in a grunt. "…of all things, saved you, _**my heir**_?"

The judgement echoed in the whole throne room and Arthur, bless his soul, could only bow his head in an act of shame. He couldn't very well reveal that the girl just happened to have magic.

They still have no clue on where her loyalties lie or where she's even from for that matter. But her rescuing him should count for something, and if he needs to lie to his father to get her shelter under their roof, then he'll just have to bear his ego being knocked down by a few times.

He could just hope that by the time his king father lets him go, she's already woken and received the debriefing from Merlin. Sorceress or not, it would be for everyone's benefit if she goes with their made up back story for her to avoid his king father's suspicions of magic being at play.

Hurtful, his father's disappointment may be, but his demeaning words feel weightless compared to the embarrassment he felt when the knights laughed to his face their whole ride home. Just thinking of what he endured made Arthur want to cringe. It was his worst nightmare come to life, and his only consolation was that Merlin was too puzzled by the girl's apparent magic to join their teasing. Though even if he did join, Arthur was only more than ready with a rebuttal, the memories of the warlock getting his arse saved by Gwen and Morgana from Kanen's raiders still fresh from his box of memories.

A frown formed on Arthur's chiselled face at his line of thought.

'Huh,' he reacted internally. Since when did the knights' and Merlin's opinion of him start meaning more to him than his own father's?

Arthur blinked to keep his focus as Uther continued his lengthy tirade. His father was saying a lot of words, but Arthur had long perfected faking the appearance of an enthusiastic audience.

"…be that as it may, the girl is obviously a princess and should be treated as such," Uther finished at long last, and Arthur hardened his jaw to keep up the appearance of a properly chastised son.

Uther took one look at him and decided to end their conversation. "Have Gaius see her, and ensure that she's given with the best Camelot has to offer."

"Of course father," Arthur obliged respectfully, itching to see if Merlin's learned anything from the great dragon. "If that is all, then I would be taking my leave to see that your orders are properly executed."

At his eagerness to leave, Uther's eyes softened by the slightest bit he was capable of.

Arthur was only a step out of the courtroom when his king father's words made him pause if only for the fact that he had never heard him speak so mystically.

"Who knows son," Uther wondered aloud, "Perhaps being saved by a damsel is the sign that you've finally found your perfect match?"

* * *

Hermione was dreaming.

_Ron was asleep, snoring inside the tent. But she couldn't fall asleep and opted to join Harry outside for a moment of peace._

_These days, it feels like they have been deprived of it._

_"What do you think is waiting for us after the war?" Hermione asks Harry who was poking their made up fire with a stick._

_She caught the change in his breathing. She didn't like how his eyes turned grim._

_A part of her knows what he must be thinking. He must not believe that he has a shot to see things beyond the war._

_"I'm not losing you Harry," she tells him determinedly, taking them both by surprise when she turned and threw her arms to wrap around his shoulder, pulling his face to her neck. "I'm not. We're in this together. You'll never be alone, I promise you."_

_A sound half-chuckle and half-sob came out of Harry._

_"You can't promise that…and if it comes to down to it, I'd rather you guys live and grow old."_

_"You're my family now," Hermione tells him, pulling away to hold his face in her hands, "Haven't you realized this? I need you Harry. I can't do this without you."_

_Harry's smile was painful. "That's why I need you to live for me. You're the only one I trust to be strong enough to take care of them. Ron and Ginny. They need you Hermione."_

_His hands found hers and gave both a squeeze before he pulled himself away. And when he stood to go inside, she didn't stop him but kept her eyes on his broad back and watched him wordlessly walk away from her._

_'What about me Harry?' she whispered when he was nowhere in sight. 'Who would be strong enough for me?'_

_But just like every time she asked that same question, the only answer she received was silence._

* * *

Shivering in the coolness of the night as he stands in the vast expanse of the forest, Merlin really should have known better than to believe that the great dragon wouldn't be vague in imparting wisdom.

If anything, he should have expected it, given all their previous dealings.

"Who is she?" Merlin had asked, a simple question to which Kilgarrah had answered with a proud look in his eyes.

"The answer will come in time, young warlock. Then you will see, just what kind of role the young warrior is meant to play in the makings of a land and time too near yet too far from your own."

"Great," Merlin grumbled, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "More waiting and more riddles."

Kilgarrah laughed heartily at the dragon lord's impatience.

"Then I will tell you this, if only to appease your unease," the dragon began, sounding way too amused, it would drive Merlin mad if he wasn't already agitated.

He needed to know if she's a threat to Arthur. Somehow, Merlin doesn't think that she is, but he wanted to be sure if only so he could prepare and keep her from portentially hurting his friends.

"Do not be surprised if the young warrior burns so brightly in front of you and all of Albion. And when the time comes, I hope you would remember this one thing," Kilgarrah offered, pausing in what Merlin now knew was the dragon's way of letting him know he needs to remember the words for later pondering.

"All great stories begin with an encounter of souls, souls that united, will do things far bigger than themselves. For what is a legend if not the adventures of the craziest of minds? And what is a myth without magic and mystery? Yet these, young warlock, are nothing more than a tiny dot in the grand scheme of destiny, a little story in the cycle of life."

* * *

There was a soft knock on the door before it opens.

Sitted on the chair by the bed where the sleeping guest lay, Gwen turned to greet a frowning Merlin.

"How did it go?" she asks kindly.

Merlin responded by shaking his head. "I got crazy riddles, as always."

Gwen laughed but caught herself in time and stopped herself before she awakens the poor girl.

"Is she alright?" Merlin asks this time, taking his time to reach the foot of the bed.

Worry creases Gwen's forehead then. "I don't know. She was dreaming a while ago. She kept murmuring words, kept calling for Harry," Gwen divulges, looking up to meet Merlin's eyes. "Do you know who that is?"

"No."

"Well, whoever he is, he sounds very important to her."

"Maybe her family?"

"Maybe."

Silence covers them, broken only by a whimper from the sleeping girl.

"Harry, don't go," she groaned, eyes still closed as she called out the unfamiliar name. Merlin and Gwen exchanged glances, unknowing what to do even as the unconscious girl brought up a hand to grasp at air.

It was in her fifth utter of the name that Merlin won against his own suspicions, and made the choice to sit at the edge of her bed and take her hand.

"You're going to be alright," he tells her then, hoping that his words would soothe her even if she couldn't see him. "You're safe here. I got you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Okay, so I am liking the results of posting my stories in this site so far. I'm glad you guys like it. If you enjoyed it, I wish that you'd take a moment of your time to leave me a review. Reviews really are the best way you can encourage a writer such as myself.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please look forward for more chapters! :D
> 
> P.S. I'm not 100% sure yet which pairing will win in the end, whether it's Arthur/Hermione or Merlin/Hermione, but I'm thinking of going for a slow burn. So bookmark it and read to find out ;)


	3. A Stranger in a Land of Myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING??!?” Hermione screeched in fright, clutching the blanket tightly to her chest and breathing in relief at the realization that she was still fully dressed. Her hand felt the mattress for her wand, and she frowned when it wasn’t there.
> 
> Gaius walked in right in time to see the boys spread on the ground and trying to stand only to fall back again, grasping their heads and grumbling about concussion and dizziness.
> 
> “What happened here?” the old physician asked aloud, eyes widening at the sight of his frightened patient.

Merlin knew he’s being paranoid. Kilgarrah himself doesn’t seem too worried. In fact, he even sounded smug and excited at the girl’s presence. Merlin knew he should take it as a good sign. However he’s had a lot of experiences to know that what amuses the great dragon could end up catastrophic for the kingdom, and Merlin, of course, had to be the one to pick up the pieces and do the clean-up.

The job was never fun, no matter how many times he’s done it.

He was so lost in anxiousness that he all but jumped in fright when Arthur walked in through the door, the sod not even bothering to hide a grin when Merlin stubbed his toe in the process.

“Really, Merlin? Your clumsiness sees no end,” the prince commented teasingly much to the warlock’s grimace.

“Oh, just cut me some slack, will you? I’m too busy trying to solve Kilgarrah’s stupid riddle!”

Arthur hummed, crossing his arms as he stands on the side. “Let me guess. Two nights of no sleep, and still no luck?”

The glare Merlin gave him would have obliterated him on the spot if it wasn’t done in their usual banter. As it was, the warlock waved him off and returned to his seat, returning to flipping the magical book they borrowed from the druid camp.

“Found anything useful?” he asked, eyes kept on the book even as the prince joined him, having pulled a chair for himself.

“The council wasn’t aware of King Lot having an heir, but they believe it’s a likely possibility. Essetir has a lot of enemies after all, given the time of Cenred’s reign. It would make sense if they kept her hidden to protect her.”

Merlin’s brows knitted in thought. “And her magic? How do you explain that? Doesn’t King Lot share Uther’s beliefs of how magic is a curse?” he asks, looking up to see Arthur, elbows plopped on the table and with his chin resting atop his joined hands.

“He could have gotten involved with a sorceress,” Arthur theorizes, blue eyes turning darker the more the conversation reminded him of an old dear friend who turned against them. “I’d hate to say it, but it isn’t uncommon for royals to hide their misconduct. To this day, I still could not believe Morgana’s actually my half-sister.”

Merlin’s gaze softened in sympathy, but then a thought came to mind and he knew he needs Arthur to know.

“Her magic isn’t like anything I’ve encountered before. It’s an unknown to me. Not even Nimue’s or Morgana’s magic can compare to it. With them, I can easily feel their power. It changes the atmosphere. It makes the earth sing. But hers,” Merlin pauses to bring out the wooden stick he’d been keeping while their guest sleeps. “It’s so extraordinary and yet hidden. It feels like the earth, like fire, like water and wind and more when out in the open, but now that she’s sleeping, she may as well be a non-magical person. Also, I swear this piece of wood has magic of its own, and yet I can feel her own magic lingering in it. It feels like-” Merlin stops himself, unsure of how else to describe the concept of good and evil mixing into one. Instead he says, “You saw how she defeated the mummies with the fire bird. I’d be too dangerous if she ends up working on the other side.”

Arthur nodded, choosing not to voice his agreement. Between the two of them, he’s no expert in sorcery. If Merlin says she’s dangerous, then he’d have no choice but to believe him. Still, he could put in his own two cents in their situation.

“She saved my life. She doesn’t seem to believe I’m the prince. She even seemed confused on why she’s in Essetir, but I tried to convince her all the same, and when it came down to the fight, she could have let me die but she didn’t. That has to count for something.”

Merlin looks torn when their eyes met, but nods in acquiesce. “Let’s hope that stays true when she wakes,” he says.

What he couldn’t tell Arthur is that for all his worrying and stressing, he’d already told the girl that he’d keep her safe. He doesn’t know how or why he made such a promise when she’s on the peak of a nightmare, but he did it anyway because deep down, no matter how he tries to deny it, there’s that one word that comes to mind when he thinks about her magic, the balance of light and dark, the line that connects good and evil.

It feels like shelter in the storm, like the comforting hand of a friend in times of great turmoil. It’s safe and it’s serene, yet at the same time, it’s uncontrollable and mortifying, like a hurricane ready to devour or an angry lioness when its cubs are threatened. It’s something that calls to him, and yet he wants to run away from. Something he wants to protect and fears to lose. It feels like everything and more, and it scares him immensely to not know why he feels so strongly for something so strangely unfamiliar. Because if there’s ever a word to sum everything the sleeping girl and her magic make him feel, only one comes to mind.

Mystifyingly and indubitably, it’s an odd reminiscent of home.

* * *

_Empty tables and chairs surround them, leaving the soothing jazz, and their own movements the only noise in the whole restaurant. Hermione would complain about wasteful extravagance if she doesn’t already know it would only fall on deaf ears._

_At least this time, she’s already gotten used to his gentlemanly behaviour enough to let him pull the chair for her without protest. They both know it annoys her whenever he treats her like a damsel in distress. But if he’s kind enough to leave her to her quirks then she’ll be polite enough to tolerate his._

_“You know Granger, for the brightest witch of her age, I never pegged you for a masochist,” he stated as soon as they were both seated._

_Hermione scoffs, glaring at his amused chuckle when she went to grab the knife and began to stab the steak._

_‘Better the dead meat than the ferret’s face,’ she thought._

_Draco didn’t seem to get the gist of her temper though, or if he did, was determined to ignore it._

_“You know you’re only going there to get tortured, right?” he continues to taunt, adding how he could make swirling a glass of wine look so elegant to the list of why she hates him._

_She blames his pureblood upbringing for how he makes everything look so easy while she had to sit in muggle etiquette classes, spending weeks and months under the mentoring of the devil herself, Madame Vivian, who’d made her ears bleed with the amounts of ‘No, Hermione. Ladies don’t stomp, they glide. No, Hermione. Ladies don’t slurp, they sip.’ The happiness she felt when she’d graduated was only slightly below what she felt when she got Skeeter trapped in the jar._

_“I mean, think of it. Weasley’s screeching poor excuse of a wife and Potter’s overly protective bride to be, both in one place and jealous of you. Add a couple of Weaslette’s Holy Harpies’ sidekicks and fanclub, and Salazar, woman,” Draco pauses for a dramatic effect that only made her roll her eyes. “I won’t be surprised if I don’t see your name plastered in the Daily Prophet’s obituary tomorrow. Are you really that desperate for female companionship that you’d suffer being stuck in a room with birds who hate you and wants to murder you in your sleep?”_

_Hermione fights the urge to throw a stinging hex at the blonde._

_Newfound friendship or not, Draco Lucius Malfoy, no matter where or when, would always be a blunt, annoying and arrogant little ferret. The only difference from before and now was that now, she knows how to read his concern for her well-being in between his mockery._

_But of course, she couldn’t just give him away. Far be it that she calls on him for being soft. The whole Wizengamot would be supporting S.P.E.W. before the git would admit to ever feeling anything close to caring for another human being._

_“Tell you what, just so you won’t get bored missing my company while I suffer in Ginny’s bridal shower, why don’t I arrange a get together with you, Harry and Ron?” she suggests chirpily, not even trying to hide her satisfaction for her own brilliant idea at seeing the mortification on his face._

_“That’d be the day,” he scrunches his nose, disgusted._

_A minute passed before she’d finally caught her breath from laughing too hard and she decided to placate him. “You know I’m only going for Harry’s sake. It would mean a lot to him if I at least try to get along with Ginny. He’s family and he loves her. That means if I have to endure being in the same breathing space as my ex’s wife and my best friend’s lover who’s convinced her stupid mind I’m out to steal his future groom, then I’ll do it. No questions asked,” she says and immediately hated how the words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears._

_If she’s being honest, it still hurts every time she remembers of how they used to be._

_There was a time when Ginny was her little sister, and Lavender was at least a good dorm mate even if they didn’t talk often. But then they grew up. Insecurities and jealousy got in the way and it made them see her closeness with Harry and Ron as a threat to their happiness. After that, they’d seen her as nothing but the enemy._

_She’s only appreciative that Draco’s nice enough to not call her lies when they both know they were there._

_It surprises everyone who knew of their history, herself included, how her relationship with the blonde turned from mutual hate to one of the most genuine friendship she’s ever had. They weren’t the best of friends, no. That title still and will forever belong to Harry James Potter. But Draconis Lucius Malfoy, for all his pride and narcissism, was quickly becoming a close second. He was one of the few people she believes has her best interest at heart, albeit he has no qualms offending her with his opinions._

_Even now when she’d laughed at his face, he’s still making sure she doesn’t choke on her own spit and hands her a glass of water. She hates that such a simple act makes her reconsider her life choices._

_Will it be worth risking her sanity to make Harry happy?_

_Hermione sighed and hated herself for knowing and accepting that the answer would always be a yes. She would tolerate Ginny for Harry, just like she knows Harry’s forcing himself to be civil with Draco for her sake._

_Draco must have sensed her made up mind because he groaned in dismay._

_“Fine,” Draco accepts begrudgingly, and she watches with curiosity as he pulls out a box from his coat pocket before pushing it on the table towards her. “Then at least, give me the luxury of making sure their jaws drop in envy when you walk in. I know Weaslette picked a royal theme of all things, and I won’t have you going there with a cheap looking tiara.”_

_Hermione couldn’t help but smile, secretly touched. “What is it?”_

_He shrugs like it was nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her as she opens the box only to gasp at what looks to be a billion galleons worth of silver crown resting on the red pillow._

_“Malfoy, this is too much,” she expressed, voice breathy in amazement, but he wouldn’t have any of it._

_“They call it the Dragon’s Whisperer,” he tells her, knowing that the added history would entice her enough to distract her from the untold price. “I know, odd name for a tiara. It’s been in the Malfoy vault for centuries now. I don’t know if there’s any truth to what the myths say, but it’s meant to call and bring you to where you should be, where you’re needed and could be your best. Destiny and all that hogwash if you’d care to believe it.”_

_Hermione looks at him warily. “It’s not another horcrux, is it?” she asks, and snorts at how offended Draco looked at her insincere insinuation._

_“Merlin, witch, I thought we’re over this! No jokes about Voldie and his shenanigans!”_

_“I know, I know,” she wheezes, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry. Just, well I can’t help that it reminds me of Rowena’s diadem, can I? You have to admit there’s a queer resemblance.”_

_Draco was frowning, and they both turned to look at the crown._

_It looks innocent enough and she couldn’t feel any trace of dark magic emitting from it. It’s plain silver and made of intricate swirls that reminded her of the medieval time. It only has one stone, white and right at the centre. It’s simple and elegant, an eye catcher that speaks royalty and demands authority without screaming for attention._

_She knew the moment she saw it that he’d picked it knowing she’ll find it tasteful._

_“So, will you wear it?” he asks, trying and failing to sound anything near nonchalant._

_Hermione beamed, plucked a grape from the fruit basket and threw it at his forehead. He yelped like a five year old but stared wide eyed at her bright smile. “Don’t go throwing tantrums on me Draco Malfoy! It’s a gift from my favorite ferret. Of course, I’ll wear it.”_

* * *

Hermione had her own fair share of people trying to prank her in her sleep. A few times it was Harry trying to find some fun in the middle of a war. But mostly, it was Fred and George and their infamous thirst for mischief.

One thing common in all three though was how easily they learned that a sleeping Hermione was not something to be trampled with.

Unfortunately for the prince of Camelot and the warlock, they had no way of getting the memo.

Arthur was dozing off, legs propped up on a tower of pillows, when Merlin heard her groan. Thinking that the patient’s finally stirring into consciousness, he had been quick in shaking Arthur.

“What?” the prince grumbled, still half asleep.

“I think she’s waking up,” Merlin answered, eyes never leaving the girl. At the news, the prince seemed to startle and they both hurried to reach her side, stumbling a time or two along the way.

If they thought about it, it really wasn’t their brightest idea to be hovering around her. They saw her doe eyes blink a few times into the light before they caught sight of them. They knew immediately that something was wrong when terror filled her face before an insurmountable amount of magic surged out of her and they were both blasted into the wall.

“What the-” Arthur groaned, grasping his head while Merlin tried to move his arms, crying in relief that it wasn’t dislocated.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING??!?” Hermione screeched in fright, clutching the blanket tightly to her chest and breathing in relief at the realization that she was still fully dressed. Her hand felt the mattress for her wand, and she frowned when it wasn’t there.

Gaius walked in right in time to see the boys spread on the ground and trying to stand only to fall back again, grasping their heads and grumbling about concussion and dizziness.

“What happened here?” the old physician asked aloud, eyes widening at the sight of his frightened patient.

“Thank goodness,” he sighed, coming to her side and putting aside the water basin he was holding to check on her. “How are you feeling now? We thought it’d be a week more before you wake, child. You really hurt yourself, draining your core like that.” Then, seeing her confusion, he added quickly, “My name is Gaius by the way, I am the court physician and have been in charge of your recovery. I can say I am very pleased that you’re looking rather healthy. A bit pale, but we’ll just have to put food into you and get you into the sun.”

Hermione for her part only blinked at the news. “I’m-” she paused, suddenly unsure what to address first. “I woke up to see those two staring. My magic slipped thinking I was in danger,” she explained weakly, sounding just a bit guilty. “I-, where am I? Who are they? Why, why am I here?”

The old man, Gaius, he calls himself, looks at her with great concern. “Do you not remember, my lady? I believe you’ve met them, albeit shortly, when they found you in Essetir.” Turning to the other two people in the room, he said, sounding stern, “Highness, Merlin, why don’t you come in here and introduce yourself? I believe you owe her an apology for scaring the poor girl.”

Hermione stares uncomprehendingly at how he addressed the boys. Her mouth opened and closed and opened and closed as she tried to form words but couldn’t. Gaius watched as she tried to disguise her obvious unease with fake laughter. “Please tell me this is all a very elaborate dream.”

“I fear this is all real, my lady,” Gaius confirmed sympathetically, exchanging knowing looks with the other two.

She felt a head ache coming and she pressed her forehead into her hands as she groaned, eyes closing and rendering her defenceless as flashes after flashes barged into her mind and forced her to watch.

**_She and Draco having dinner, him giving her a crown and forcing her to sit still while Narcissa Malfoy’s personal stylist and minions torture her, Draco’s very smug look when she stepped out of the dressing room, her apparating to Godric’s hollow feeling like another person, the look on the girls’ faces when she walked in, Ginny’s forced smiles and Lavender’s snide remarks, booze, boring chatter about boys and career and quidditch of all stupid things, more booze, more stupid things, feeling like she’d rather fight Voldemort himself than have to stay there for a few more hours, the girls’ storytelling of failed relationships and disaster dates, booze, Padma handing her firewhiskey and a head ache potion, her excusing herself to the bathroom, hearing an ominous voice call out her name, her ignoring it only to hear it again, her instinct leading her to the library, a book falling, the page turning to the picture of a dragon and then…_ **

Hermione gasps as she remembered waking up in the middle of nowhere and meeting a man in armour. She gasped louder when her eyes landed on the same blonde who was now looking at her warily. “It’s you! We fought mummies together!” she exclaimed, and Arthur thanked the heavens that she finally recognizes him.

“I’m guessing we won then?” Hermione found herself asking calmly as they approached, surprising even herself with how well she’s handling her situation.

Truth be told, she’ll probably freak out later when she's had time to let everything sink in. For now, she’d do as she’d always done and just go with the flow. She still couldn’t be certain if this is a dream or if she really got sucked into the pages of a book about dragons of all things if the picture she remembers seeing was anything to go by. Is she really to believe she’s in the presence of the greatest warlock of all time and the legendary king?

No, not yet, she couldn’t let her mind take that path, else her know-it-all self would make an appearance and scare them away with her fangirling. She might even end up shelterless. She couldn't let that happen when she doesn't know what's really going on.

For now, she’d settle in learning as much as she could about wherever time and place this is. After all, this is hardly the most unbelievable thing that happened to her. She may as well call it the story of her life at this point. Hermione Granger, trouble magnet extraordinaire. She wanted to blame Harry, but really, it may just be her own luck that led her to him.

She was brought out of reverie when the blonde, Prince Arthur she had to remember, apologized sheepishly to her.

“I am so sorry we scared you, princess. You have to know we do not have ill intent. You are safe here. We both just were excited to see you waking up. You have been sleeping for a week and two days now and we were worried.”

He seemed pleased to see her nod and accepting his explanation.

She decided to ignore her apparently new title in favor of more pressing matters.

“You’re forgiven, but I have to ask, what happened after we burned them? How did I end up here?”

Arthur frowned and shared a look with the others. “You lost consciousness, my lady. And then we brought you here.”

“Ah,” she commented, biting her lip in thought. “I guess I owe you then. Thank you for bringing me here in-” she let the sentence hang for him to finish.

“We are in the palace of Camelot. My father, King Uther, had this room prepared for you the moment you were brought in.”

Hermione looks around the room. Canopy bed, ornate table, chairs and cabinets, red drapes on the window, two crossed swords mounted on the wall side by side with a red mantel embroidered with a dragon. Her mind registered that she must be looking at the Pendragon’s crest.

“That is, that is very generous of him,” she remarked, forcing herself to be polite. “I would like to meet him later to relay my gratitude.”

Arthur nodded easily, and she pretended not to notice him elbow the other boy. Deciding to throw them a leaf, she said, lifting her hand as she remembered her etiquette lessons. “He said your name is Merlin? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Merlin looks surprised at being addressed. “The pleasure is mine, my lady,” he said, taking her hand and looking at Arthur. Only when the prince gave an amused snort did he bent to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

Hermione wondered if such courtesy wasn’t reserved for men of all statures.

The physician, Gaius, clapped his hands to call for their attention then. “Now that you are looking rather well, I will be preparing a list of meals to give the cook so she could prepare it for you. Is there anything you need to me consider, my lady?”

Hermione felt her cheeks straining for giving too many smiles right after waking up. “Nothing in particular. Thank you Gaius. I appreciate what you’ve done, and are doing for me.”

Gaius nodded and meant to excuse himself out, but stopped when she turned to ask the two worriedly, “Would you mind telling me where my things are? You didn’t throw them away, did you?”

Merlin, feeling a tinge of discomfort at the sound of her distress, tried to be helpful for once. His concerns on her being a crazy evil witch hell bent on harming Arthur flew out the window the moment she woke up looking lost and not knowing Arthur. He’ll keep watch of course, and there are still a lot of things that need clarity but all that would have to be put on hold when she’s feeling safe and comfortable enough.

The last thing they wanted is to scare her again. People do things when frightened, like blastering strangers into the wall.

“They’re all safe. I’ll go get them and bring them now if you want,” he offered, trying to sound friendly, unprepared when his breath was knocked out of him at the relief that replaced the fearful look on the princess’s face.

She was a sight for sore eyes asleep, but awake and smiling at them, she’s easily the most beautiful princess he’d ever laid his eyes on, and that was saying something because he’d met Princess Mithian.

One look at Arthur and he knew he wasn’t the only one entranced.

“Please,” she pleaded, sparkling doe eyes looking up at him hopefully.

“Ahm,” The warlock stuttered, blinking and trying his best not to stare too long. “I think it’d be good if I also bring you some food.”

He saw Gaius nod, a proud and knowing look on his face as his eyes shifted between him and Arthur. “That is a good idea Merlin! Go get all of that while I prepare the list as well as some tonic for nutrients,” the physician says before turning to the prince. “And Arthur, how about delaying informing Uther that his guest has woken for now? We do not want to overwhelm the girl.”

Arthur caught on quickly that it was an excuse to give them a chance to talk to the girl without being interrupted. They needed to ensure that she doesn’t get herself killed for being caught having magic. “That, that would be great Gaius. I’ll do that.”

Hermione stared, feeling left out at the sudden awkwardness that engulfed the room. She blinked as the three excused themselves, Prince Arthur and Merlin sprinting out the room so fast, they may as well be riding a broom.

“That was weird, but oh well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done yey. God's great :) Hope you like it! Thanks for reading.
> 
> Reviews/comments make the world a little brighter :D


	4. When the Brightest Witch Meets Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you even a real princess?”
> 
> She tilts her head this time, and both men look annoyed, finally getting the sense that she’s having the time of her life messing with their heads.
> 
> She wouldn’t tell them that the reason she’s too comfortable is because they’ve already returned her things to her and all it would take is a quick apparition to find herself back in the forest in case they ever decide she’s an enemy.
> 
> Instead of answering, she says, “What do you think?”

Arthur would deny it if asked, because princes do not gawk. But try as he did, it was difficult to hide his amusement as he watches their guest practically inhale her third serving of lamb stew, having abandoned all inhibitions.

She devours it in spoonful so quickly that if he didn’t know any better, he’d think she’s been starved for weeks instead of having spent days asleep. Gaius did say she’s in dire need of nutrition, and what better way to provide it than a healthy and hearty meal, courtesy of the kitchen staff?

Still, her behaviour was astonishing, if not peculiar to say the least. To think that she could be this comfortable around them after listening to them warn her about his king father’s rules concerning magic and the punishment given to those found guilty of possessing it.

Either the days he and Merlin spent brainstorming on how best to deliver the news paid off, or she really just doesn’t care. Considering what he’d already seen her do, he wouldn’t be too surprised if she already has a way to escape should the need arise. But would it hurt her to be even just a tad bit fearful? What sane person isn’t afraid of death? Arthur couldn’t decide whether to add this to the list of positive or negative things he notes about her.

So far, she’s proven herself powerful, extremely so. She also apparently cares about people’s lives considering she’d saved his after having only known him for a short time. And if his heart skips a beat every single time she meets his eyes, he’ll just add it at the bottom of the list. It would hardly matter anyway if she turns out to be out for their heads.

“Thank you,” he heard her say to his manservant who refilled her bowl for the fifth time now.

She was also polite and never fails to express her appreciation even to the littlest of things done for her, he added onto his list.

Taking back his seat across the prince, Merlin, of course, was ignorant to Arthur's musings albeit also alert and watching her.

Arthur wonders how it feels like to feel her magic like his best friend does. Merlin did say it was extraordinary, but somehow Arthur thinks it only makes sense because so far, nothing about her is ordinary.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait too long. She just finished inhaling her sixth bowl when he saw her lean back at last, shoulders slumping as she sighs contentedly.

The monarch unknowingly held his breath when she turns to them, her doe eyes staring with expectation.

“Is that all I need to know then? You have nothing more to add?” she asks sweetly, blinking all too innocently for someone who was just informed of a threat to her life.

For her part, Hermione would be lying to say she isn’t thoroughly enjoying seeing their dumbfounded expressions. Who else could say she’s gone back in time and made the the once and future king as well as the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth speechless? It would add another record in her stories to tell her future grandchildren.

Seconds passed and hearing no response, she decided to cut her story short and precise.

“My turn then,” she announces, giving herself a moment to sigh and prepare herself for whatever consequences she’ll face with her admission. “My name’s Hermione Granger, and I’m a witch from the future.”

This time though, she has no qualms laughing at their gaping faces, earning an indignant cry from the prince who was quick to assume she was teasing.

“HEY!”

“What? You just told me I’m in a kingdom ruled by a king who burns people at stake for having magic and that Merlin here is a warlock who’s destined to aid you, Prince Arthur, in the coming of a better age, and I believe you. But then I tell you I’m a witch from the future and now you’re looking at me like I’m crazy? Really, that’s where you draw the line?”

“Prove it then,” the prince demands, crossing his arms in a display meant to regain control of their conversation, she presumes. 

Hermione just smirked from the bed, cool as ever and not rising to the obvious challenge. “I could, but I’d rather not have you fainting,” she tells him, before adding in thought, “Not yet anyway.”

When she rose from the bed to grab a plate of fruit from the table, she rolled her eyes at their befuddlement. “What? I’ve been sleeping for days that I’m so hungry I could eat a hippogriff!”

“What’s a hippogriff?” Merlin asked, feeling thoroughly out of his depth here.

Arthur snorts and glares at the warlock. “Really? That’s what you ask?”

To her, he observes, “You seem too calm for a girl who claims to be from the future.”

This time, it’s the brightest witch who snorts before kicking off her slippers and jumping to sit back on the canopy bed. “It’s not my first rodeo. I’ve had my fair share of time travelling before.”

The prince didn't bother to hide his bewilderment to ask, “Is that common in the future?”

She giggled. “Nah. Just for the really studious ones who couldn’t have enough classes. I wouldn’t advise it though. It can be messy.”

“How did you end up in Essetir?” Merlin asks, not believing a single thing she said but wanting to see how far she’s willing to go to keep her story. They have no way of making her spill the truth if she really wants to lie, no way legal and without resorting to torture or magic.

He needed to know more before he decides if it’s worth it to get magic involved.

A shrug was her response. “Beats me if I know. One moment, I was in a library, escaping my friend’s boring party, and next thing I know, voila! I’m being woken by a prince to fight a group of mummies.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then how are you so calm about all this?”

The question was straight to the point and valid. And if she was in their place, it’ll also be at the forefront of her mind.

But she isn’t in their shoes. She's in hers, and in hers, this really is among the least of worrying situations she could ever find herself in.

Later, when she’s convinced herself this isn’t a hoax or a dream, then she could consider telling them. But that would have to wait, so for now, she says, “There are worse places to be, and besides, you guys seem nice.” Popping a grape to her mouth, she states the obvious too, “Look, you’re even feeding me.”

Arthur scoffs. “Are you even a real princess?”

She tilts her head this time, and both men look annoyed, finally getting the sense that she’s having the time of her life messing with their heads.

She wouldn’t tell them that the reason she’s too comfortable is because they’ve already returned her things to her and all it would take is a quick apparition to find herself back in the forest in case they ever decide she’s an enemy.

Instead of answering, she says, “What do you think?”

To her surprise, they started bantering like children.

“Well, Arthur’s no prince either. He’s a prat, but the crown and a cape are enough to make everyone believe he’s a prince,” Merlin tells her in an all too serious tone that earns him a smack on the back of the head from the royal.

“You idiot!” Arthur reacted. “Stop that or she might just believe you!”

“What? I’m just saying. Even if she isn’t, it’ll be easy to make everyone believe she’s a royal. It’s the talk of the town after all,” Merlin points out. “If she’s telling the truth then she doesn’t have a place to go. The only way Uther will let her stay is if she’s someone important.”

Hermione’s eyes softened at his remark. Deciding to intervene before the prince decides to hit him albeit playfully again, she says, “Where I come from, we don’t have princes and princesses, but we do have a minister and a whole council of lords and ladies. We call it the Wizengamot, and I do have a seat in it so if that’s what counts for Uther then we at least don’t have to lie about that part.”

“You’re a lady?”

She shrugs, mind drifting to the time she’d been told that Sirius Black made her his heiress before his death. It’s one of the reasons she and Draco were forced to interact before they became close.

“By inheritance, yes, I am. A lord made me his heiress.”

“Why?” Arthur asks, more curious than anything.

Hermione’s smile was sad and reminiscent. “Because I saved his life.”

* * *

Gaius barely stepped into the throne room when the king all but leaped off his throne and in quick strides, greeted him with an excitable inquiry.

“How is the princess Gaius?”

It was only fortunate that the old physician has had enough practice to act like he always does and answer in a clinical fashion, not minding the monarch’s queerness.

“She is well, your grace. But I advise to give her time to recuperate before having her face yourself and the council. She did experience a traumatic event after all, and it would do her well to rest and regain her sense of safety. At least until she feels comfortable enough to face a crowd, I would advise giving her some time alone.”

“Of course,” Uther agrees, waving a hand as if it was out of the question in the first place. “Has Arthur visited her?”

At thus, Gaius’s eyes widened in realization. “He did, your grace. The prince was there when the princess woke.”

“And? Do tell,” Uther encouraged, “What happened? What did they converse about?”

“The princess was out of herself, scared to find herself in an unfamiliar place. But the prince was quick to assure her that she’s safe here.”

Uther looks pleased, very, very pleased indeed if the gigantic grin tearing his face was anything to go by.

“Would you say that Arthur cares for her?”

Gaius brows' were rising higher and higher the longer this conversation continues. “In what way, your grace?”

“I meant as a woman, Gaius. Is my son showing interest in her as a woman?”

Gaius frowned, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Do you mean to know if he’s attracted to her, your grace?”

“Yes, yes that!” the monarch exclaimed impatiently. “So, is he?”

“I wouldn’t know how far as attraction goes, but I do think he finds her beautiful. It was a sight to have witnessed, seeing the prince look enchanted.”

By the huge grin on Uther’s face, it was as if Gaius had given him the sun.

“Good, that’s very good.”

Barely restraining a smile, the old physician asks, “Is that all, your grace?”

“Yes, that is all. You may go now Gaius,” Uther dismisses him with a wave before quickly adding in a voice still all too pleased, “And thank you for taking good care of our guest. Make sure she’s treated well and that she wants for nothing, Gaius.”

“Of course, your grace. I will relay the same to the servants who tend to her.”

* * *

The magic pulses from the earth. It was soft and barely humming but it was there.

Kilgarrah looks up to the clear blue sky and smiles in thought.

_'Ah, it is beginning at last.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. Another chapter done at last :))))
> 
> So, curious, because I noticed whenever I paste stories in the site from MS Word, the spacing between paragraphs actually gets doubled. Do you mind if I just leave it for the next chapters or do you want me to keep editing it to single space for continuity? Also, what do you think of this chapter? :D The more comments I get, the more I'll be inspired to update fast (hopefully anyway).
> 
> To GOD always be the glory! Without Him, I can never write.
> 
> Thank you for reading! See yah in the next chapter! :)


	5. The Boundaries of Time & Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing is predetermined except those that are. But I have faith that things will happen just as they are meant to.”
> 
> “How long do you think before she realizes what sent her there? Will she be prepared for what’s coming their way?” Draco asks, seeing Potter turn rigid in great concern.
> 
> But the other figure was far too calm, his eyes bright and his voice light with acceptance.
> 
> “Of course,” he says with no room for doubt. “She’s far too brilliant not to. And she has help. She always has.”

The Malfoy library was quiet, far too quiet, and littered with gloom emanating from the sulking dark haired wizard currently burning holes in the coffee table.

“Oh Potter, for the love of Merlin, would you please stop sulking!? You know, she isn’t really gone, right? Or, has all that fighting of dark wizards brought you retrogade amnesia now?” the Malfoy heir reproaches with more annoyance than scorn, putting down the book he was reading to reach out for the wine bottle. In one swift movement, he opened it only to throw the cork at the man.

It hits the Boy Who Lived right at his forehead, making him wince then glare at the blonde sitting on the couch across from him.

“Drop it ferret! This is all your fault! If you didn’t introduce me to the bloody-” Harry growled, but caught himself right in time, saving himself from another unwanted transfiguration.

It doesn’t matter how long it’d been. Harry still cringes at the memory of having a beak for a mouth and bat wings on his back, his body parts heating and twisting in a jinx so powerful and alive that he could have sworn he felt the magic pulsing from everything around him, cornering him from all directions. He almost sympathized with Malfoy for having been turned into a bouncing ferret when they were still students in Hogwarts, but the sentiment was gone the moment the blonde opened his mouth to insult him.

Harry groans, and brings up his hands to mess with his already untameable hair, a habit he’d acquired to reduce frustration. All the women in his life would roll their eyes and laugh every time he does it but he couldn’t bloody seem to shrug it off.

“I can’t even address him properly without being jinxed!” he complained.

Draco’s brows rise at the outburst, but he masks the amusement with a sneer before the other man could see. Long distant relatives in the twisted pureblood family tree or not, there was no love lost between old nemesis. They only remind each other of this mutual agreement every chance they get.

“I can’t help but feel like I betrayed her. What kind of best friend am I? If Hermione ends up killing me, I promise I’ll make sure to drag you with me to the grave,” Harry threatens, pointing an accusing finger at the Slytherin.

Draco scoffs, feeling a headache coming from the dramatics and hypocrisy of the man before him.

“And what do you know about betrayal, huh, Potter?” he retorted. “If you’re really so concerned about being a good friend, then why do you force Granger to tolerate your wife? Weaslette couldn’t be more obvious in expressing her hate, and she’s got the rest of her galling friends to do it with her.”

Harry’s response was to snatch the wine from his grasp, his annoyance diminishing only slightly when he heard the involuntary yelp that followed. “Ginny doesn’t hate her. She’s just-” he trails, instantly regretting whatever led them to this conversation.

“Jealous? Inferior? Atrocious?” Draco says, meaning to be helpful for once.

“No,” Harry glared, answering through gritted teeth and hating himself for acknowledging it’s a lie.

“You know, Potter, believe it or not, I used to envy you,” Draco divulges, surprising the both of them with how willing he is to admit weakness just to make a point. “The Golden Trio with your bond so tight, you’ve stuck to one another from beginning to end regardless of come what may. You’d do anything for each other. Maybe even sacrifice your life. I used to wonder how different my life would have been if I had a friendship like yours.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” Harry deadpans, unable to stop himself from antagonizing the man, and feeling shamed enough by his own behaviour that he takes the spiteful glare he received like a punishment.

Draco rolls his eyes but didn’t allow his childishness to stop him from sharing his thoughts. “But then, I actually got to know Granger. I learned to tolerate her and all her quirks and brilliance. I’ve come to admit she isn’t so bad, and it makes me wonder how she’d lasted this long tolerating your inequities and your shitty friends. Hasn’t she done enough saving your stupid arses? Hasn’t she sacrificed enough? And yet you let them treat her like she’s a scum meant to take all the horrible things they say about her. So tell me, is that how you define a good friend?”

“I’m going to stop you right there ferret,” Harry bellowed, trying and failing to control his temper. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Hermione and I, we’re family. I’d do anything for her as I know she would for me! In fact, it’s the only reason I’m here, talking to you. It’s the only reason I even agreed to let her be dragged back in time! Because I know her, and I care about her, even if it means I have to work with you and let her go. So if you think for one second that I-” Harry stops mid-rant as the door opened, and he ended up blushing and stuttering at the sight of the latest arrival.

Draco’s upbringing allowed him to calmly stand and offer a respectful bow to the hooded figure. And Harry observed, and did his best to copy his greeting the best he could.

“Please, it’s just us, and I really am just a man,” casually dismisses the hooded man, “There’s really no need for extreme formalities.”

The two wizards waited as the guest took it upon himself to sit in the remaining vacant chair.

Draco, seeing his chance, poured him a drink and was first to ask something that’d been bothering him greatly.

“Do you think it’ll happen exactly as you remember? Is there a chance things will go differently this time?”

The face under the hood smiles, cerulean blue eyes twinkling with fondness, and it amazes Draco how his mere aura alone demands not just respect, but reverence. Not even the Dark Lord could do that without instigating fear.

“Nothing is predetermined except those that are. But I have faith that things will happen just as they are meant to.”

“How long do you think before she realizes what sent her there? Will she be prepared for what’s coming their way?” Draco asks, seeing Potter turn rigid in great concern.

But the other figure was far too calm, his eyes bright and his voice light with acceptance.

“Of course,” he says with no room for doubt. “She’s far too brilliant not to. And she has help. She always has.”

Relieved sighs from the two resulted from his response.

“Destiny, huh,” Harry thinks loudly. “Guess it’s really been messing with people’s heads ever since the beginning of time. Will there ever be an escape?”

The answer came with amusement. “Some are born to be rule, others to serve. Some are born to teach, others to listen. But haven’t you ever noticed that change is a constant? Rulers can fall and servants can rise. It’s all part of history. Everyone is born for something, I suppose. But to know such purpose and live it is a choice that must be fought for. And the price is always great.”

Draco pouts. “What does that mean for us common men?”

The man under the hood laughs. “It means you have a choice. You always do.”

Turning to the dark haired boy who’d grown sombre, he addresses, “Mr. Potter, I’ve heard you and Hermione are like brother and sister. I have heard of your great many adventures together. You must have an inkling how destiny works. Can you share us then why you still chose to send her away?”

Harry sighs and fidgets, finding it hard to keep himself composed in the legend’s presence. “I recognized the magic in the book. I know it’s what she would have wanted me to do. She’s far too extraordinary to settle for a normal life. I know she thinks she’s just a sidekick no matter how many times I’ve tried to tell her differently, but I’ve always known she’s meant for greater things than me. I just didn’t expect those things to be…”

A chuckle escapes the man in the hood as he gives them both a knowing look.

“It’s a blessing and a curse, isn’t it? The gift of time and magic. Where the gap of space and time is too vast, love and magic reaches out. An old cherished friend taught me this.”

“Do you miss them?” Harry inquires. “Your old friends, I mean. Your old life. Is it why you’re doing this? To make sure you get them back?”

A sad smile settles on the man’s face. “I’ve always known every meeting means a parting, but some encounters just stick to you no matter how long, no matter how painful the parting was. If you ask me if I miss them, the answer is always the same. I do, terribly so.”

* * *

_'Four whole days of total torment!'_

Here she is, stuck in the dark ages in bloody Ancient Camelot no less and the most exciting things she’d done were fight mummies with Prince Arthur, meet Merlin himself and have the bloody future queen of Camelot help her bathe and dress.

It would take a blind man not to see what they're doing, and unfortunately for them, the brightest witch of her age is neither blind nor a man. It's a wise move, she'll admit. Keep her on lockdown inside the royal guest room for monitoring and observation.

Physician's orders, they reason. Apparently, she needs space and time to feel safe and recover her strength from the "trauma". Well, in her humble opinion, these really are just other words for _‘We need to make sure that you’re not planning anything harmful to Camelot before we set you lose.’_

It makes perfect sense.

It's something she herself would have done if a stranger claiming to be a time traveller from millennia into the future shows up at her doorstep. After all, doesn't the Wizengamot support Professor Croaker’s law stating that the furthest time someone can go back without causing serious harm to the traveller or to time itself is five hours? The fact that she's gone thousand years back should be a big cause of alarm to your average witch.

Good thing she'd long lost her delusions. It's too late to care for her sanity given everything she's done and faced in all her young years of living. It's no one's fault she has a knack for exceeding the expectations. It seems to come naturally to her, like magic.

Hermione only wishes they would just interrogate her instead of keeping her on lockdown. At this rate, she wouldn't even mind if they use her to fight more mummies. At least in the forest, she can walk freely and explore. She can even set things on fire without worrying for arson.

Considering her state of boredom, Guinevere really chose the perfect timing to come and shriek in horror. Poor girl dropped the tray of food, the sound alerting Merlin who was only steps behind her.

The warlock didn't bother knocking when he heard her scream followed by the noise of shattering plate and utensils.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" the warlock asks in alarm, but Guinevere was already at Hermione's side and using her own skirt to dry the blood in the witch's hand.

"It's nothing. It's just a scratch," Hermione explains sheepishly, trying her best to keep the knife she used to peel apples away from their view. But her two new acquaintances saw it and were already giving her a reprimanding look.

"Nothing? My lady, this isn't nothing, you’re bleeding!" Guinevere scolds in outrage, taking her time to clean the wound and wrap her hand tightly with a handkerchief.

Minutes later, and only when she’s satisfied with her handy work, Guinevere goes to take the tray from Merlin who had just finished cleaning up the mess on the floor. The two exchanged a meaningful look before she leaves to let the two magic users talk.

“What’s going on? Why did you hurt yourself?” Merlin asks worriedly, coming to join the witch by the window.

Hermione blew a stray hair away and shifted her foot in discomfort.

"There really is no reason to overreact. I'm not suicidal or anything. I only meant to test a theory. See, if I bleed then it eliminates two possibilities. Now, I know this is neither a dream nor a memory saved in pensieve. That means I should be looking for other explanations of how I ended up here.”

Merlin looked aghast at her reasoning. “So what? You purposefully hurt yourself?”

Hermione frowned, crossing her arms. "Well, if you'd just go straight to interrogation by torture, then I wouldn't be so bored now, would I?"

Merlin backtracks. "What?"

Hermione huffs, hating herself for acting like a child but she really is almost at her wit's end. Years on the run hunting horcruxes had been too daunting that after the war, it's become hard for her to be still in one place for a long time. She's always found herself moving and changing sceneries to keep her spirit calm.

Seeing the color drain from the warlock's face, guilt started to well up inside of her.

"Look," Hermione sighs and prepares to reason. "I know you don't trust me and to be honest, I don't blame you. But I'm not really the kind of girl who can stay in one place for too long. I always need to be moving to be in good condition."

Silence followed her confession that even the ticking sound from the vintage cuckoo clock was becoming interesting.

_Tic-toc, Tic-toc_

Hermione finds herself staring at the wall, unknowing of the dread and guilt that's now tearing the warlock from the inside out.

To her surprise and loss, the warlock's next move was to lead her to sit by the edge of her bed.

Kneeling in front of her, Merlin gently pries her hand, and after removing the wrapping, covered it with his own.

“Þurhhæle licsar min,” he murmured, leaving her in wonder as his magic began to flow, sanitizing the wound and knitting her skin back together.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say even before she could recover from shock.

The honesty and sincerity that came in his tone and the way he looks at her was so unexpected that she stills herself for whatever would happen next. 

"Do you really want to get back to your home that much?"

"No," Hermione found herself answering loudly before she could think. "Not really...I-...I don't know," she shrugs.

The warlock nods, seeming to take her answer at face value.

“Merlin,” she murmurs, fiddling with her thumbs on her lap and trying to sound kind as she readies herself to ask a difficult question. What better time to ask than now, when things are already awkward?

“Why do you hate me?”

Merlin gapes. “What- Why, why would you think that? I don’t-”

Hermione just laughs weakly. “It’s perfectly alright. I mean, I can see where you’re coming from. I wouldn’t believe me too if I were in your shoes. I’m not even sure I’m actually awake for all of these.”

“You still think you’re dreaming?”

She bites her lower lip and shrugs, unsure of the answer herself. “Maybe. I mean, how could I tell? I used to believe it isn’t possible to travel this far long into the past, and yet, here I am. If I am to accept that this is real, then it would break all I’ve read on theories and established laws of time travel.”

Merlin’s face scrunched, looking for the right words.

“I don’t…I’m sorry if I made you feel like I hate you. I don’t. And I'm sorry if you think we're doing this to torture you. We’re not. But, I would admit that I am wary of you-” he confesses all too carefully that she felt inclined to encourage him to keep going.

“Go on," she nods at him. "I can see through what you’re trying to do. You never let anyone here alone with me. Gaius, Gwen, Arthur. And whenever Gwen's tending to me, you're always nearby or just outside. You’re being cautious. You’re waiting to see if I’d hurt your friends.”

Another moment of silence passes by.

“Would you? How do I know you aren’t lying to us? How do I know you’re as good as you seem to be? I’ve seen your magic. It’s too big a risk to believe that…” he lets the meaning behind his words hang in the air, tiredness showing in his eyes as his shoulders slump.

He looks so human now, so worn out and haggard. He wears the face of an innocent boy but his eyes tell a different story. He's guarded and prepared to fight and he's trying to see if he could lower at least a bit of his defenses with her.

All Hermione could do is stare back and not look away. 

Magic to magic, their eyes talk. Her chocolate brown orbs gazing into his metallic blue, both willing to test the waters and see where it will take them.

It isn't trust, not yet. But it's something.

Eventually, she says, “You’re right Merlin. I think you’d be stupid to trust me right now. Just because you don’t see my demons doesn’t mean I don’t have any. Maybe it’s because you’re looking too hard that you can’t see it. I’m not pretending to be anything I’m not. I’m neither a saint nor an avenging angel of light. Where I come from, I was just a warrior fighting for whichever side couldn’t cry loud enough to be heard.”

“Where you’re from, what kind of world is it for people like us?”

“Magic users, you mean?” Hermione clarifies.

“Yes.”

Hermione brightens at this. “Hmm...Well, which aspect would you like to know? There must be something specific you’re curious about.”

“Do they no longer persecute us?”

“If you’re asking to know if you’ll be able to fulfil your destiny to help bring about the coming of Albion, then think of it this way. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t succeed,” she points out kindly.

The smile he gave her could have eclipsed the sun.

“Is there any place you'd like to see?” Merlin asks, dusting his knees as he stood.

“Really now?” Hermione remarks in disbelief. “You'd let me go? Just like that?”

Merlin shrugs, and it was his turn to look sheepish as he pretends to fumble with his scarf. "It's the least I could do. Believe it or not, we really didn't mean for you to feel like a prisoner. I'm sure Arthur would feel guilty too if he knows that's how you're seeing it."

It was endearing, she thought, how someone with the weight and glory of his destiny could be so humble. He reminds her of Harry.

“So, is there? I know it’s late so we couldn’t go very far. But I want to make it up to you,” he offers.

Hermione ponders for a moment, feeling excited for the first time in a while.

"Somewhere where I can walk around and see a good view?” she suggests hopefully.

Merlin nods, already having a place in mind.

He's just about ready leave and prepare for their departure when she calls him back.

“Oh, and Merlin,” Hermione smirks, tilting her head in an attempt to look innocent.

“Yes?”

“You can tell Arthur to come in. I know he’s right outside, listening,” she tells him. Seeing his jaw drop, she laughs, assuring him she isn’t mad. Still with lightness in her tone, she shares, “The books got it wrong, you know. The written stories have nothing compared to what you guys are. The historians portrayed you as Arthur’s guardian, his royal advisor and magical protector. But the way I see it, Arthur’s as protective of you as you are to him. It’s beautiful to see. You really are like two sides of the same coin.”

* * *

Somewhere where no ordinary man could walk, there stands a castle hidden in fog and darkness.

“No,” Morgana gasps from bed, wide awake and screaming. "No, this can’t- this cannot be! Camelot is mine!”

She took the closest thing to her which happens to be a lamp on her nightstand, and threw it to crash into the wall.

“Morgana!” Morgause calls in alert, having climbed up the stairs the moment she heard her sister's first cry.

The whole castle is shaking with the unrestrained magic emitting from her sister, and she pleads with her to save them from being buried in rubble.

“Stop this Morgana! You must control yourself, sister! This is our home!”

“I saw it,” Morgana cried, shivering and not registering the danger her distress is causing as she sought comfort in Morgause’s embrace. “I saw it sister! I saw it! There’s someone sitting on the throne! Someone else is wearing the crown! My crown!”

Treating her as though she was a child, Morgause pulls away with a smile instead of sharing her worry.

“Oh, do not fret dear sister. The answer is simple really,” the elder witch says soothingly, drying her tears with the back of her hands. “If it’s a future you hate then we must change it. We must work to change the future you saw and turn it in our favor.”

Morgana allows herself to be led to lean back on the bed rest, a pillow propped behind her head. She waits patiently while Morgause went to the dressing table to pick up a comb.

“Now tell me, sister dear,” Morgause asks as she begins to comb her hair. “Who was it? Who did you see stealing your crown?”

Morgana shudders, then closes her eyes to remember what she saw in her nightmare. Dark magic fills her senses as the image of the injustice overwhelms her once again.

When she opened her eyes, they were a dark shade of gold, and she’s filled with too much hate that she unconsciously blasted her own sister into the wall.

Her fists are clenched as she hissed.

“The third side of the same coin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you for reading :) So I meant to post this last night but I only got the chance to edit it today. What do you think? Comments are highly encouraged for faster updates :D
> 
> Happy New Year!
> 
> How is the narration and the twist? Do let me know if there's a scene you wanna read and I'll see if I can incorporate it in the story :D


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